


et in arcadia ego

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [67]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/M, Illustrated, M/M, Organized Crime, Xenophobic Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The neighborhood has been wrecked, the entire district is dark, but those aren't the only things changing in New Jack City, for better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a late arrival

**== >Terezi: Enjoy the impromptu block party **

 

You have a strong dislike for barbeques. While the meat is tender and tangy, the smell and smoke invades everything in the fifteen foot radius. The air turns dark and chalky, staining the bright hues of the world into a dull wash. It makes moving difficult so you have to be extra cautious in maintaining your spatial awareness. Relying on sound alone works for some impaired trolls, but you’re not fond of it. You learned to rely on three senses, not just two.  

You can’t fault Karkat or Dave for this gesture though. It’s a brilliant way to get people in this neighborhood to bond in the awkward union you’ve formed. Food crosses cultural barriers as everyone has to eat, from the richest carapaces to the poorest trolls. You cross the street to your trailer, which is a jagged disarray of blood, bullets, glass, and all the other distortions. Standing in the doorway, your hear a bike rumble down the road.

The bike stops in front of the trailer. _“Jegus Sufferer!”_ Cronus gasps.

You smile. “Cronus! You came. I wasn’t sure if you got the text since the call kept dropping.”

“Yeah, I came.” Cronus gets off his bike. He smells frantic, though the smoke is masking most of it. He walks forward and curses when he steps in something soggy and soiled. It may be a diaper. “This place looks like fucking Raffil. What in the hell happened?”

“A long story that involves bullets, fire, and a lot of expletives. Come inside and I’ll give you the CliffNotes.”

Cronus follows you into the trailer, inhaling sharply once he looks at the extensive damage. He doesn’t say anything for the first minute. He just observes what’s already happened. He sits on the couch and puts his face in his hands. He must be thinking of how close his family came to death and all the damage that’s been done. You watch him, standing and already adjusted to the destruction.

 

 

When he collects himself and asks, “W-was anyone hurt? Was Karkat hurt? Kankri?”

“Karkat wasn’t here and Kankri and I are fine. At least physically.” You don’t know of Kankri’s emotional condition. He’s been unusually quiet since Kurloz left.

“What happened to Kankri?”

“He had to kill someone.” You look down. “One of our neighbors tried to hurt me. Kankri beat him to the death.” You point to the corner where the man was killed, right beside the sofa. He had pulled you there because he didn’t want anyone sneaking up on him. He hadn’t expected Kankri to be so fast or your teeth to be so sharp. The blood stains and splatter are still there sharp and bright like razors against the cool canvas of the floor.

“Jegus.” Cronus whispers, “Was anyone else killed? The intruders, I mean.”

“Dozens. Maybe more.”

“And the bodies?”

“Collected by the black coats. Then handed over to the police, I assume.”

“Police. Don’t get me started on the _police_.” Cronus growls, “They put up a barricade around the entire neighborhood. You can’t get in or out without their say so. Took me forty minutes to get here because the cops didn’t believe me when I said I had relatives living here. The whole time I was sweating bullets about you guys.” He pauses. “I must have looked like the most suspicious guy in the world. No wonder they didn’t let me in right away…fuck.”

You’re not surprised about the barricade. You tell Cronus about Chief Swan ordering a lockdown of the neighborhood and the media blackout.

Cronus nods. “Channel 4 and Foxbeast are at the barricade interviewing people who can’t get in. I’m not the only relative coming in from the Squalor or Twelve Acres. Unless there’s a shooting or political sex scandal, you guys are going to be on the news for days.”

“Great.” You sit on the couch, studying Cronus. His fear makes his unripe grape and boiled collard greens smell more obvious, permeating the room with his sweat. “What do you know about the black coats?”

“What makes you think I know about them?”

“Your nervousness about me asking makes it obvious you know something. You’ve met with them before, yes?”

Cronus flounders before confessing, “I’ve never spoken with them before but they’ve always been around. There’s a few more than there used to be but there’s always been at least one black coat around. During births, funerals…they’re always there watching.”

“How long have they been observing us?”

“I don’t know. I never really paid much attention to them until I started taking care of Kankri. I don’t recall them being at the Manor at all.” Cronus pauses and shakes his head. “No, they definitely weren’t there. They didn’t start popping up until we left. There were a lot of them at the Signless’s funeral. I think maybe all of them were gathered there.”

An observation Karkat had already made and mentioned to you during your private pale times. The black coats are stalking your family and friends, but as to the why? You know they buy eggs but for what purpose?

“Do you know why the police would take testimonies from them?” you ask.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if they’re trustworthy.” Cronus turns his attention back to the damage. “Geez, it’s like Kankri went on a binge times fifty. I better go talk to Kankri. I’ll”—he glances around, shaking his head again—“figure out what to do about this later.”

“Thank you, Cronus.” You stand. “There’s a barbeque at Strider’s. Everyone is there and I’m sure Karkat wants to see you.”

“How’s Karkat?”

“Karkat is…” Karkat stinks of blood, uncertainty, concern, and anger; all of which further sour his sweet cherry scent. It’s been souring since he’s been working late at the Trussian bar. “He’s different.”

Cronus sighs. “Go figure…”

He still blames himself for Karkat’s abduction. Everyone does, in the same way you all blame yourselves for what happened to Tavros. Karkat is correct in his observations about your group. You may not be completely cohesive like a typical human family unit but you still look out for each other.  

Cronus goes to the bedroom to speak with Kankri. You don’t disturb them. Intruding on paleness is one of those taboos not even trolls in this loose modern era will break. You go to the kitchen and survey the bullet damage. The kitchen window is broken but the pantry is most affected. All the cans are broken and will have to be cleaned up. The stove and fridge were struck but they’re not leaking or sparking. You search the dark freezer and uncover black sausage and deer meet (a gift from Jake and Dirk). You put them in a plastic bag and leave the trailer.

The Strider trailer is smeared in the black-grey of charcoal. You have to use your staff to keep yourself from bumping into people. You hear Sollux wondering aloud where Feferi is to Eridan and your mother (weakly) telling him to calm down. You go to the source of the meat cooking smell, hearing Dave and Jade’s voices over the crack and sizzle of pig and chicken.

“Dave, you should really take a break.” Jade says.

“Jade, I’m _fine_ ,” Dave insists, “and if you worry over the kid as much as you do over me, we’re going to have a mini Howard Hughes on our hands.”

“Who’s that?”

“Howard Hughes? Guy who made like a really big plane and went crazy? Turned into a total hypochondriac with long nails and a beard?” Jade shakes her head. “Seriously? How can you not know that? They made a joke about it on The Simpsons. _Twice_.”

“Dave, no one is obsessive enough as you to keep track of The Simpsons’ obscure references.” you say, “And I thought The Simpsons was too mainstream? Shouldn’t you be talking about some animated TV show no one’s heard about?”

Dave smirks. “I could talk about The Maxx or Æon Flux.”

“Æon Flux isn’t that obscure anymore. Its been remade to death.” You hold up your meat. “You got room on that grill?”

“Sure. Let me just finish up these vegetables for our favorite blueblood musclebronies and we’ll be set.” Dave says.

You smell around for the clown and Tavros. You pick up Aradia’s wispy metallic scent (almost smothered by the charcoal in the air). You don’t smell Tavros, who has a distinct bittersweet chocolate smell. You smell Kurloz’s mix of chemicals and blood but not Gamzee’s, which is a mixture of chemicals and blood with a sprinkle of sea-salt.

“Where’s Gamzee and Tavros?” you ask.

“They went to go check on Meenah.” Dave says, “I say more power to them trying to run around in the dark. You may as well swim along Two Boot Drive with all the rain we’ve been getting.”

“Tav’s nerves are fried.” Jade sighs. “I don’t think Gamzee would move him if he passed out from all the stress.”

You don’t like Gamzee or Kurloz but they’re loyal to their quadrants. “Cronus arrived. He says the police have a barricade around the park. They’re screening whoever comes in. Some of the local news is there too.”

“I bet Cronus wanted to know why our park looks like Leder.” Jade mutters. Dave shudders and she looks at her matesprit. “Dave? Are you alright?”

“…I’m alright.” Dave mutters, focusing on grilling.

Jade glances at her matesprit but moves on. “What do you think about the lockdown?”

“I’m glad it’s happening.” you say, “Its about time the police took charge of the situation here in the Ninth Ward.”

You hope that the criminal element sinking its claws into Karkat will loosen during this time. You had considered talking to him directly about it but Karkat views the Trussians so positively. You know he should learn the truth on his own but you don’t want him to get hurt in the process. You still haven’t figured out what to do about the situation.

You enjoy the rest of the block party though. Food takes your mind off of everything that’s happened. Kankri eventually joins you with Cronus by his side. Kankri hugs you and he smells like his fears have diminished.

“I flush you so much.” he whispers.

You kiss him. “Same. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Where are the eggs?”

“Inside with Karkat watching them. He’s cleaning up.”

“I better go check on them and talk to my son.” Kankri sighs.

“Yes, but its over. Save anything stressful for later in the week, alright?”

“Alright…”

You hope he doesn’t say or do anything too drastic but you can’t mind him. You’re not his moirail. You go to Equius and Aradia, needing the distraction of conversation.


	2. father (mother) and son

**== >Terezi: Be Kankri at that very moment **

 

The night is warm but you can bear it. You move to the trailer but you hear a car rumble down the street. You move out to the front and see Meenah pulling over in her car. She get out and helps Feferi out of the back. Gamzee gets out of the passenger side and Tavros gets out of the back, rubbing his eyes. Feferi walks to the back yard with Meenah closely following. Meenah’s has a row of welts across her chest but Feferi’s unmarked, looking afraid and lethargic.

She must’ve come out of a fit and Meenah was the target. Feferi looks around the backyard. She’s wearing a faded blousy nightgown that makes her look like a poverty-stricken dolor. She sees Sollux and runs to him, holding the yellowblood close and sobbing into his shoulder. Eridan moves in to hug them both and you breathe a sigh of relief. You’re just happy that they’re altogether and comforting each other.

You’re less happy when you see Rufioh and his father arrive in Rufioh’s truck. You don’t have a grudge against the Summoner, or Petros (as he wishes to be called). How could you? You barely remember the man. You were fifteen when he disappeared and you only learned about it second-hand from Meenah, who had always been close to Rufioh and Aranea.

You’re less certain about why he would return after so long, why he’s not old and grey like his matesprit, and what he would want. Money? He should know that would be the last thing people in the Ninth Ward would possess. Forgiveness? Rufioh would apologize to someone who crippled him from the neck down. Aranea has the logical reaction in regards to her father. Could this man (Petros) even _be_ the Summoner? The Summoner would be in his sixties and this man looks younger than _you._ Though that wouldn’t explain the skin, height, and wings; only Nitrams of the Summoner’s bloodline have wings.

Petros must sense your suspicion because he looks in your direction. It’s been years since you dealt with your father’s generation but you recall them being aggressive when it comes to eye contact. You consider looking away to avoid a conflict but Petros doesn’t look agitated, just distant and calm. He’s the first to look away.

Meenah doesn’t have any of your suspicions, or if she does, she’s not making it obvious. She smiles at Petros. “I can’t get over how _huge_ you are. I bet you could like out-fly _planes_.”

“Um, thank you…” Petros mutters. He seems unsure of what to think about Meenah.

“Meenah, the man just got here. You’ll have plenty of time to harass him like a hungry magpie later.” You sigh. You’re starting to think your sister is a size queen when it comes to her red quadrant.

“Shut up, basshole!” Meenah growls, “I’m just squidding around with him. Like I’m going to go chasing after someone’s _father_.”

“When you start fish-punning like that, it means serious quadrants business.” You smirk. “You must be craysea to think I wouldn’t notice schooner or later.”

“I should call cultural appropriation on your fish punning, landdweller.” Meenah huffs.

You roll your eyes. “As if you could. There’s nothing cultural about fish puns.”

“You two deal with that then...” Rufioh mutters, while Petros and him inch away from Meenah and you.

It’s then Karkat leaves the trailer, dragging a garbage bag onto the porch with a grunt. He dusts off his hands and looks over. Petros and him lock eyes but it’s only for two seconds. You don’t think anyone else notices it before Karkat breaks the gaze and hustles back inside. Petros returns to looking around and sees Aranea standing at the other end of the yard. Aranea deliberately looks away from him and the elder brownblood sighs.

You decide that you’ve lingered long enough. You enter the Strider trailer via the back door go to the living room, which smells like bleach covering up blood and tear gas. Karkat is standing on a chair, nailing a blanket to the wall in front of the windows.

“What was that about?” you ask.

“You’ll have to put some more words in that sentence if you want me to know what the fuck you’re talking about.” is Karkat’s answer.  

“Karkat, I grew up with my father and the other OG trolls, as your generation refers to them.” you say, “I know the look you were giving Summ... _Petros._ ”

“What are you talking about, Kankri?” Karkat grumbles, looking over at you. He’s annoyed, not embarrassed, so he must not genuinely realize what he’s doing.

You start to snicker from his expression. You can’t help it. This reminds you of the first time your father explained sex and responsibility to him (a lesson, you personally think, didn’t take very well). “You don’t realize you’re giving Petros pailing eyes?”

“‘Pailing eyes’?” Karkat rolls his eyes. “This isn’t Alternia anymore, old man.”

“Karkat, you’re an adult now. You’re the _only_ molted adult troll of your generation. You’re young and--”

“Who the fuck even _thought_ of buckets?” Karkat snorts. He finishes nailing the blanket and gets off the chair. He drags it to the other side of the window. “What kind of brain dead moron went ‘Hey, let’s carry our jizz in buckets and feed it to some awful monster that looks like a cross between an ant queen, a Barbie, and has the lips of Troll Angelina Jolie’.”

“ _Karkat_.” you say firmly, “Stop being sarcastic for a moment and listen to me. I swear, you’re getting as bad as Dave with the pointless rants. As I was saying, _Karkat_ , you’re an adult now and your instincts are going to make you behave in a certain way. You should be aware of your body’s…reaction…in the presence of certain people. Petros is of a different generation. He acts nice but you have to be cautious too.”

Karkat is nailing the other part of the blanket. “Why do _I_ have to be cautious? Petros wouldn’t hurt me.”

“What makes you think that?”

Karkat hesitates and then mutters. “He’s a Nitram. They’re not dangerous to me.” He speaks louder, “I have self control and _zero_ interest in fucking him. My quadrants are filled. I have Strider and Vriska.”

“Oh.” You snort, “ _Vriska_.”

Karkat pauses in his nailing and turns around, glaring down at you. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing…” you say, calmly.

Karkat scowls. “Don’t give me that ‘nothing’ bullshit, Kankri. You have a paragraph of commentary reserved for everyone. Let me guess: you think she’s a bad mother and not worth my time.”

You do but if you say that, Karkat will withdraw even more and not want to listen to you. “I just think you should be careful. You’re my son, Karkat. I worry about you getting hurt.”

Karkat rolls his eyes again and returns to hammering. “The last thing I plan to do is ‘get hurt’ as you put it.”

You don’t have a doubt in your mind that Vriska will hurt him at some point. Ceruleanbloods can’t help it. They hurt the people they care for just because it’s in their nature and the people that care for them rarely call them out on their bullshit until the pain becomes too much. Karkat will be hurt, or maybe he’s already been hurt and won’t admit to it. You know there’s something troubling him but if it’s not Vriska, then what?

“I want to ask you something.” You say.

“If it’s about condoms and Petros, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Karkat growls.

“That cybernetic you mutilated, who taught you to do that?” Karkat pauses in his hammering again, but then continues a second later. “I know Jake and Dirk couldn’t have. They don’t do that kind of harm to people. So who?”

Karkat finishes nailing the blanket to the windows. He gets off the chair and faces you. It’s strange having him tower over you and look identical to his father. It must be a shock for Petros too. You wonder if he thought Karkat was your father. Maybe that’s why he keeps staring so intently at Karkat.

“What is this about Kankri?” Karkat asks and he sounds less annoyed and more tired with your ambiguous questions. 

“Did Meliak tell you to do that?” you ask. Karkat’s eyes widen and you nod. “Yes, I know all about Meliak and the Trussian mobsters. Your father and Meliak used to be very good friends. Did he mention that?”

Karkat frowns and his eyes narrow. “Not exactly.”

“Meliak and your father were very good friends until they had a falling. Do you want to know why?”

“No.”

“Karkat—”

“ _Kankri_.” Karkat shuts his eyes. “I can guess what it was about. I don’t need you to spoon feed me the truth. Meliak, Sergei, the others…they’re criminals. I get that. I can understand why Grandpa wouldn’t want any part of them.”

“Karkat, you obviously _don’t_ understand. The Trussians are dangerous and fanatical. If you fail to live up to their expectations--”

“They’ll kill me. I know.” Karkat says. “They’ll find a way to make it look like an accident and get rid of me.” He inhales slowly, muttering, “I’m not an idiot.”

“Then _leave_ , Karkat! Find a way out. I can hide you and--”

“Kankri.” Karkat turns and you see the bags under his eyes. He’s rattled by this night and not just from the violence. “I don’t want to spend my life hiding from the Trussians like Rose was from the Cherubs. What will happen to you? Sergei knows where I live. Dirk is a Trussian too. What will happen to him?”

“Karkat, Dirk’s situation is different from yours…” You say gently. Karkat doesn’t respond and you look into his eyes. “You know.”

Karkat turns away.

“You know what they did.” You swallow, “You know because you have father’s memories.

“I _don’t_ know,” Karkat insists, but his voice is quiet and weak, “but does it matter? I’m involved in that evil now and you’re not the person I want to talk about it.”

You open your mouth but understand his sentiment. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to speak with you and it makes sense. You’re his mother, not his moirail. You can fuss and worry over him but there’s only one person Karkat is going to open up to and it’s not you. You nod and leave the trailer. You hate it but you have to let him do as he wishes.


	3. the end of the party

**== >Kankri: Be Karkat for now **

Once you get the living room the way you want it, you pull out the fold-out couch and make it comfortable. John’s going to be the one who’ll have to sleep on it. You pile blankets on it since the mattress is thin and it’ll be cold in the trailer with the windows temporarily gone. You sit on the pull-out couch and turn the crank on the kinetic batteries. Cronus comes in and hugs you, just glad you’re in one piece. You’re glad for the very same. You both sit on the pull-out bed and help crank the batteries.

“There’s a generator in storage but I don’t know what condition it’s in.” Cronus tells you. “It might need to be blown out before we can use it.”

“Most people in this neighborhood have generators but they’re either in storage or empty. We have a generator too but it needs fuel.” You say, “We’re going to have to take a ride out to the fuel stations in East or South New Jack.” You can’t go to downtown because you know Interstate 36 is going to be backed up come morning. You can at least take the back way to South New Jack.

“You might be better off going to bourgeois suburbia. You’d burn too much fuel going out to South New Jack.” Cronus disconnects your phone from the charger and plugs in Strider’s. “By the way, Tulip’s is going out of business. I’m thinking about getting a job at a club I go to.”

You’ll be sad to see Tulip’s go but you’re not surprised. There are too many nail salons now. “What kind of club?”

“It’s called The Black Hole and it’s a nice place. I can make more money there since I’m a seatroll.” You give him a questionable look. “I’ll be a server. Not a _stripper_ , Karkat.”

You smirk. “You’re too bony to be a good stripper. And you should still be careful. Clubs can be dangerous for single trolls.”

“Yeah…single.”

There’s a wistful look in his eyes. You finish charging another flashlight and work on the second. “Who do you have a crush on?”

Cronus’s creeks turn violet and he mutters. “No one.”

“Bullshit.”

Cronus looks away so it has to be someone he’s crushing on.

“What if I…” Cronus begins, “…I liked someone but they weren’t a troll. Or a human.”

You pause. “Like…a reptile?”

“No…”

You stare at Cronus. “Like what? A…” You pause. “Like a…carapace? Or a leprechaun?” Cronus makes a wishy-washy gesture but that just confuses you more. “When did _this_ happen?”

Cronus flushes. “It hasn’t _happened_! Not yet. You see. We sort of.” He stops, studies your face, and looks away. “Its just something that’s been in the forefront of my mind. I just don’t know how people would deal with it, considering how they act completely freaked out when it comes to just Dave and you.”

“It’s not that bad really. People treat us more like we’re contagious and there’s a lot of dickheads but we like fucking with them more than anything.” Though you haven’t been to the really speciest parts of the city, like Ridgeside or the suburbs. “Mom, just _go_ for it. If people say shit, fuck ‘em. Your happiness is more important.”

Cronus smiles. “That’s true.”

You finish charging the phone and stand. “I’m going to go see if anything else needs charging. Can you watch Khanie and Kempie?”

“Sure. Not like they’re _going_ anywhere.” Cronus chuckles.

On the back porch, the barbeque is dying down. Most of the people have already left. Jade fell asleep in a lawn chair and someone put a blanket around her. John is nodding off next to her.

“Bed’s all set up, Egbert. Maybe you should get some rest.” You say.

John mutters and stands, walking inside. You see Terezi, Dave, and Kankri are talking. Porrim apparently brought canned wine and is sharing with Rufioh and Kanaya. You guess surviving a gang fight is a good enough excuse to drink at four in the morning. The police have also left the trailer. They must be patrolling the barricade.

You also don’t see Petros, but you hear his voice from the front of the trailer.

“—staying with my son for the time being.” Petros says. There’s a pause and he adds, “Its fine. We had a long talk. Things are going better than I expected, actually.”

You walk to the front of the house and see Petros standing on the wrecked front porch. With his size and wings, he looks like a painting of a mythological deity. You could see him as the king of the forest, with a cape woven from leaves and wearing a crown of deer antlers and green thorns, holding sway over all the animals in his domain.

Being a forest deity would definitely explain his youth.

Petros doesn’t notice you. He’s talking on his iHusk. “They’re having a barbeque so they can cook all the meat at once. No, I don’t know how long it’s going to be out. I have a solar charger though so I’ll be in touch. Alright. Talk to you later.” He hangs up and looks over at you, indifferent. “Hey.”

Your mind draws a blank on what to say or do. It’s a minute before you remember what you came out here for. “Um, we’re charging batteries so I was wondering if you needed anything charged before you flew off. Took off. You uh…can I ask you a question?”

Petros blinks. “The wings?”

“Well…”

“I don’t let anyone touch them. It’s sort of a…private thing.”

“Of course! I understand!” you insist, “It’d be like someone out of the blue touching my horns. I was just surprised they could get that _big_.”

Petros has other concerns than your apologies. “When you saw me, you called me Petros immediately. You have your grandfather’s memories, don’t you?”

You shrug.

“How much do you remember?”

“I can recall Alternia clearly but everything else is fuzzy after my grandfather’s would-be public culling. On occasion I get…thoughts, feelings. Ghosts of things my grandfather felt that I’m feeling in the present. I went to Darkleer Manor and I could ‘pick up’ about how my grandfather felt about different parts of it. It happens with objects too. If my grandfather had a really strong feeling about it, I have a weird connection to it.” You laugh nervously because you’ve never talked about this with anyone else for so long. “Holy shit. I sound totally insane. I belong on Maury with all the wannabe rainbow-drinkers and psychics.”

“It’s not insane.” Petros says quietly, “You have a unique gift. You should learn to train it.”

“I wish I could train it, but there’s no one here that really understands it. New Jack isn’t exactly crazy about psionics, if that’s what you could call this. I’m always afraid that one day I’ll wake up and it’ll be gone.” You look down. “It can be scary but there’s a lot I’m learning and understanding so much. It’s my only way to feel close to my father.”

Petros’s eyes slant. “I used to think the same way about my ability to commune with animals. A lot of people were jealous of my abilities or didn’t understand what I was going through, but I learned in time to appreciate what I could do…”

Heat rushes to your face. Fuck, you shouldn’t be this easily embarrassed. You’re eighteen, not _thirteen_. You nod and laugh, “Well, unless you need your phone charged I guess I better go.”

“I don’t, but thanks for asking.”

“Thanks for, uh, talking.”

You hurry away from him before you can embarrass yourself more. You’re just glad no one saw how you were acting. You walk over to Terezi, whose standing next to Dave.

“Need anything charged?” You ask.

Terezi tilts her head. “Karkat, are you alright? You’re speaking louder than normal.”

“I’m fine.” you insist but dial back your voice. this is turning from a night of violent insanity to _Let’s have Karkat fucking embarrass himself in front of Petros._

“Karkat now either has a thing for Nitrams, MILFs, GILFS, or all of those things.” Dave snickers, turning off the grill, “Maybe you’ll just go for the Nitram x2 combo the next time you get the need to have snu-snu.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you dick.” You growl.

“Kanaya went to go ask you a question but saw you looking flushed while talking to Foxy Grandpa.” Dave says, “Half expected you to swoon and go ‘Oooh, I’m getting the _vapors_! Catch me, Chocolate GILF!’.”

You glare at Kanaya, who’s doing her best not to look at you so she doesn’t start laughing. Porrim, Kankri, and Rufioh are also trying not to laugh. You look away from them and whisper. “We were just talking and I asked him _politely_. I didn’t hump his leg like a dog in heat! It was a friendly, _platonic_ talk.”

“Friendly platonic talks with you lead to humping.” Dave pauses, “Unfriendly platonic talks lead to humping too. _Talking_ with you in general just seems to be the predecessor for getting it on.”

“You have no room to talk with the hipster-nerd seed you’ve planted in Harley over there.” Out of spite, you’re not going to charge his iHusk. You look to Terezi, “Where’s everyone staying for the night?”

“Kankri and I are staying in our trailer. The bedroom’s still good. Cronus said he’ll board up the doorway for the night and block the back door.” Terezi says, “I think Rufioh and GILF Pan are staying at his place. Gamzee and Tavros are with Feferi and Meenah. Kurloz is with Porrim.”

“I bet Vriska’s going to love that.” You pause. “Actually, I’m not sure. I have no idea about her feelings toward Uncle Mime.”

“How are things with Spiderbitch?” Dave asks. When you groan, Dave sighs, “On the rocks again? Gods, you two are like the Lockhorns.”

“ _Nobody_ knows what that is, and I’ll deal with it in the morning. It’s almost five. My hand hurts from cranking”—Dave opens his mouth—“the _batteries_ , Strider! _You’re_ the one who has sex on the brain. Anyway, I’m going to bed.”

Terezi yawns. “Yeah, I’m tired too. Let me get the twins and head across the street.”

“All the meat’s cooked anyways.” Dave sighs.

Rufioh and the others leave soon afterwards. Petros nods goodbye to you and (like an idiot) you nod back stiffly like a bad animatronic. You don’t care what anyone says. You don’t have feelings for him like _that_. You enjoy talking to him but he can’t replace Vriska. Plus, he’s from a different generation. He has different values than you. Your only understanding of your father’s generation comes secondhand from his memories and you’re not sure if you want that. He could have a lot of emotional baggage. Even more than _you._

It would also be awkward to date Rufioh’s father and Tavros’s grandfather. _Really_ fucking awkward and weird.

And you’re with Vriska. He wouldn’t want to date a kid like you. You don’t even know if he _does_ quadrants and you bet he wouldn’t tolerate the eternal mess that yours are. The minute you get firm in matespritship, something comes along to dick it up. You should be focused on trying to smooth things over with Vriska, not eyeing up the new guy.

Why are you even _thinking_ about this?

You sigh and head back inside. John is lying on the pull-out bed, knocked out. Cronus is cranking the last of the batteries.

“Are you sure he’s alright? He barely spoke.” Cronus says.

“He’s got a mild concussion.” You sigh.

“I can tell.” Cronus removes the last of the batteries. “Alright. We have enough power for the morning news report” He stands and pats you on the shoulder. “I’m heading out to take care of Kankri and Terezi. Take care, crabcakes.”

You smile. “Alright, Mermom.”

Cronus leaves and you go into the bedroom but only spend a few minutes in there because it’s fucking _sweltering_. Without the living room windows, the air flow of the trailer is completely out of whack. The living room is chilled but that’s because a cool breeze keeps sweeping, along with the smell of garbage and exhaust fumes. Its either you’re melting in the bedroom or tolerating the smell and street noise of the living room. You decide that the living room is the most tolerable and lay on the pull-out couch.

Dave walks into the living room dragging a sleepy (and grouchy) Jade behind him. He looks at you. “Please don’t tell me there’s something wrong with the bedroom.”

“It’s boiling hot without any fans.” You sigh, “I’d rather freeze out here.”

“Same.” Jade grunts and climbs onto the bed.

“Is that bed meant for more than two people?” Dave asks.

“We’re about to find out.” You sigh as Jade lies down next to you.  

Dave shrugs and joins on the bed, holding onto his matesprit. It takes a few minutes to arrange yourselves on the bed but eventually it ends up with you on the bottom and everyone piled on top of you. With the cold draft going through the trailer, you’re the only source of heat. Even Egbert woke up briefly to pull himself closer to you.

“I would just like to let everyone know this is temporary and I’m not your shared heating pad for the winter.” you grunt.

“You said it not us.” Dave says.

“And couldn’t you have showered before getting into bed? You smell.”

“This is _after_ I showered.” Dave grumbles, “And you’re not exactly a bundle of crab roses after tonight. I’d glare at you right now but I’m too tired to open my eyes.”

You hear Bec whining and finally the dog leaps into bed and snuggles next to John. John grumbles in his sleep but doesn’t move. “I’ll just picture you squinting angrily at me like you always do.”

“I don’t squint.”

“And you don’t jerk off to the thought of Jade and me fucking either.”

 

 

 

You try not to laugh too loudly when you see Dave’s face go red. The sky is already starting to turn blue and you’re glad for what little light you have to enjoy this moment. You look over at John, whose face is in your chest. You have the sneaking suspicion he’s not really asleep. “And Egbert, don’t think I didn’t notice that your face is dangerously close to my heftsacks.”

John responds with a snore and you sigh. You pat him on the head.

“Gods, you’ve had a shitty night, Egbert. I hope your Mom’s okay.” you whisper.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Dave says, “I think its stress that knocked him out.”

“Likely. How’s your hand?” you ask.

“Stiff, but I’ll live.” Dave looks over at you.

You look at Dave’s face, unreadable as always, but you know what he’s thinking. “Jake’s going to be fine. He’s going to be tough.”

“I’m not worried about that.” He frowns. “I’m worried about how Bro is gonna handle this.”

“Me too.” You admit.

He moves in and kisses you. It’s very tender; maybe a little too tender to be just a pitch kiss but you don’t complain. You can ignore the smell, the gentle kiss, and the flash of heat between your legs because you’re just glad you both made it out. You’re also too tired to do anything so you go to sleep knowing that your quadrants are alright.


	4. lord of fire who lives on death

**== >Karkat: Be Terezi an hour and a half into the future**

 

You sleep for only two hours before you’re up again. You have a cold shower and change into clean clothes. You don’t know what you’re going to do about the laundry. With the transformer out, the local Laundromat is going to be without power, and travelling all over the place to get your clothes washed would be a waste of fuel (another thing you’re going to have to conserve in these coming days). You wake Kankri up too so he can shower and help Cronus around the trailer. Cronus is already up. The living room is clean but now he’s concerned with getting rid of that stubborn stain (a stain which is what remains of your neighbor now). Kankri changes the towel at the base of the fridge to collect the defrosting freezer drippings. He moves sluggishly around the trailer and occasionally scratches at his arms and neck.

The oven still works so you light it with matches from your kit. You have a breakfast of black sausage and warm eggs. You’re back to washing dishes by hand for now. Six thirty you have a breakfast of cold black sausage and warm eggs in the living room with Cronus.  

“With both doors busted, someone needs to be in the trailer at all times.” Cronus says, “I can go get the generator and get ethanol or I can get some boards for the windows and a new lock but I can’t do both.”

“I can get the boards and a lock.” Kankri says. “Terezi should stay with the eggs.”

“Kankri, no offense, but you smell like you’re going to puke if you stay too long in a car.” You say. “I can go with Sollux to get supplies from Hive Depot. His door was broken to.”

“Terezi, you shouldn’t have to worry about your brother _and_ yourself…” Kankri sighs.

“I’ll be fine, Kankri.” you insist, “You just stay home and don’t worry about a thing.”

You also don’t want to take Kankri anywhere if he starts to feel sick. Kankri has a habit of not wanting to admit he doesn’t feel well so he doesn’t disturb you when he’s out. It can make trips nerve-wracking sometimes so you have to be careful.

You look at Cronus. “Are we listening to the news on the radio or does someone have a battery operated TV?”

“I have batteries for a radio just in case.” Cronus says.

“Rufioh should have a battery operated TV for camping and if not him, then Jake should.” Kankri frowns, thinking of the human. “Gods, _Jake_ …he’s still in the hospital. He’s going to be there for a while, I bet.”

“He’ll be fine, Kankri.” You say gently, touching his hand.

“I know he’ll be fine. I’m worried about _Dirk_ honestly.” Kankri admits, “You know Dirk’s not the most socially outgoing person. He’s like Dave but even more awkward and withdrawn. I don’t even think he’s home yet. I checked last night to see if he’d show up but he hasn’t…”

You exchange a look with Cronus. Kankri’s concern for Dirk is very endearing but sometimes you question the nature of it. Trolls are very receptive to different kinds of emotions, platonic and otherwise, but certain humans don’t seem very open to it. You don’t think Jake would be very happy to see his husband becoming ‘too close’ with an outsider. It was these kinds of misunderstandings that led to the more common shoot outs and arrests within the park.

“Give him time.” you say gently, “He has Dave, Roxy, Karkat, and a lot of other people over there. He’s not going to open up to you right away.”

Kankri nods. “I will. I just worry about him is all. I don’t think Dirk has a friend in the world. He tries to be friendly with Roxy but they have too much baggage to ever be close like good friends should. I think on some level, Roxy still loves him and he loves her, but not in that way. I think out of everyone, Dirk is closest to Jane. And now Jane is hurt and it must hurt Dirk too.”

“He told you this?” Cronus asks, because (like you) he can’t imagine Dirk telling anyone all of this.

“No, but I notice things between people.” Kankri smiles. “One of the things you can learn in the profession I was in is reading people.”

“We’ll see him when he comes back. Try not to smother him with concern. He’ll bottle up if you do that.”

Kankri nods. “I know.”

He quietly clears the plates away. At six, you get a visit from Karkat saying they’ve hooked up a battery operated TV. You notice that Dirk’s truck is now parked across the street but you see no signs of the blonde human. At seven you convene at the Strider trailer once again to watch it. Everyone sits on the pullout bed to watch it, minding Egbert (who is still asleep). The TV screen is no bigger than your husktop but you get to see what they’re reporting. You only have battery power for an hour. The breaking news is (of course) about the Ninth Ward being in darkness due to a violent shootout. Its reported that the local police scared away the Cherubs and the gang fight is in no way connected to the Dockside shootout between the UBK and the Brotherhood.

 _“Such a scene of obscene violence has never taken place in suburban New Jack.”_ says the reporter, _“This story not only has local importance but national as well. Across the country, politicians are calling for meetings concerning the issue of gang violence and gun control in the major Canzian metropolis.”_

“Wait… _national_ news?” Kankri asks.

“Holy shit…” Dave mutters.

“Turn to CNN.” you say.

Jade turns to CNN and, as you suspected, New Jack and gang violence is the topic of the day. A newscaster is talking about the history of New Jack’s involvement with organized crime, going to back to the founding of the city and the city’s attempts to curb it. Most of the footage shown is Kurloz and your trailer, which suffered the most damage.

 

 

“ _As you can see behind me, the neighborhood is still dark. At least fifty people—humans, trolls, carapaces, reptilians—are without power.”_ says a troll reporter, _“Most of this neighborhood is made out of people who are financially dependent on the government, surviving on food stamps, minimum wage, and a prayer. Many of them are single parent households or are still in school themselves.”_

A haggard teenage troll yells into the microphone. _“What am I s’posed to do, huh? I’m only sixteen and I got three kids. A fuckin’ bullet hit my oven and now the thing just sparks and shit and the microwave’s been broke for weeks cause I can’t afford to fix it! What am I s’posed to do? I got work. Me and my kids got school. Am I s’posed to let them go hungry?”_

 _“There is also a health issue as, due to the summer garbage strike, there is still a surplus of garbage in this neighborhood.”_ continues the reporter, _“The_ smell _here is overwhelming and there have been numerous reports of past and present UTI and staph infections from the local drinking water. Due to the lack of proper health care, we could be looking at an epidemic of cholera or shigellosis breaking out here. Attracted to the garbage are wild lusii and rodents, who carry the threat of rabies and plague.”_

It then cuts to a politician, a human woman, speaking on the situation.

 _“The main culprit here is the rampant lack of gun control in New Jack City,”_ She says, _“combined with the lack of employment opportunities for its sizeable coldblood population—who are mostly ex-felons—pushes them toward a life of crime. Society has failed them and this violence is the result of such failure.”_

Everyone is outraged—from the conservatives preaching about the Jegus and the lack of morals, to liberals thinking of the poor deprived children, relief workers organizing canned food and clothing drives for the deprived people in the Ninth Ward, religious groups holding candlelight vigils for the victims, people on the street outraged at the violence in modern suburbia…everyone is shocked and screaming for a change. All of them are talking about you, showing your homes and the awful condition they’re in. You’re all stricken silent and immobile; all you can do is watch the news progress and the stories spiral into a swirling mass of chaos.

After forty minutes, Karkat shuts off the TV. Not because the report is over but because he’s had enough. None of you know what to say or do. Your homes are broadcast all over the networks and under the worst possible circumstances.

Jade’s face is clenched in irritation. “This is _humiliating_ …” she mutters, “Everyone at school and work is going to think we live in a squalid hellhole. I’m surprised child services hasn’t come to take my kid away.”

“I think the only reason is that the kid is still _inside_ you…” Dave says but sounds less vibrant than ever.

“Listen.” Kankri says, gently, “It may not be that bad. We should look on the positive side. It’s not just conservatives talking about this now. This may be the motivation to get some actual _positive_ things going, like gun law and prison reform…it’s not all that bad.”

“Yeah, but in the meantime we have to put up with reporters crawling up our ass,” Karkat says, bitterly, “and now we got the political pity parade being thrown for us. I fucking hate pity from strangers.”

You put your hand on his shoulder. “Kankri’s right. Maybe some good can come out of this still. We can’t sit around here feeling sorry for ourselves.”

Dave inhales slowly. “Right. We have to get some fuel…and things…yeah…”

You’ll have to let Karkat bring him out of whatever funk Dave is entering. That’s one of the jobs of a kismesis. You leave the Strider trailer, heading toward your old trailer. You hear yells of “Miss! Miss, over here!” from what you know are hidden reporters but you don’t acknowledge them. Hopefully they’ll think you’re deaf too. When you knock at the door, Eridan answers it with a powerful smell musk floating outside. It’s like a punch to the snout to be affronted by it as it twists everything in a burnt sienna and bittersweet chocolate taste. 

You must be wincing because Eridan says, “Sorry about the incense. It’s a little stronger than I thought it would be. I think Damara gave me the _really_ pungent stuff.”

“Why are you burning incense?” you ask, pinching your nose.

“It’s part of the cleansing ceremony and it keeps Mituna calm.” Eridan says, letting you inside and shutting the door behind you. “

“I think there’s something sinister in that ‘incense’. Are you sure Damara didn’t give you skunkweed? Or something equally foul?”

“It’s not foul. It’s _funerary incense_.” Eridan stubbornly insists while the stench accosts you.

You find the source of it coming from the kitchen. Incense is burning on the counter, placed on a small altar with a picture of Time’s Clockworks in a frame. “A shrine?”

Eridan sighs, fiddling with his hand. “Blood was spilt in there and since then, I can’t go in the kitchen. It’s too spooky…knowing someone was killed in there, so I got some incense to keep my nerves.”

You stare at the incense, smoke filling the kitchen. “I thought Alternian Traditionalists didn’t care about murder?”

“Culling and murder are two different things.” Eridan says, sounding offended that you’d confuse the two. “We culled those people because they were trying to kill us, but you should never forget those you cull.” He pulls a string of prayer beads from his pocket. He strokes the dodecagram Star of Alternia hanging off of it. “You should _never_ forget death.”

You nod and leave the kitchen doorway. You can’t do anything about the incense but you can put some distance between it and you. “I thought your god was Blood and Haze? Why do you have a shrine to Time’s Clockworks.”

“Well, it’s not much of a shrine…” Eridan mutters, “I didn’t have any pictures of Time’s Clockworks, so I took a page out of my book of Alternian fables and put it in a spare frame. Blood and Haze is my patron god but you have to acknowledge the domain of others.” He smiles sadly. “I prayed a lot to Time’s Clockworks after Grandpa died. I know Grandpa did awful things and he’s definitely in Hell but I hope he rebukes his crimes so he can enter Heaven.”

“You can go to Heaven if you rebuke your crimes?” You’re not caught up on your Alternian mythology to know the nuances of the afterlife.

Eridan nods. “If you rebuke your crimes while genuinely feeling sorrow for what you’ve done, Heaven will welcome you.”

You think of the Psionic’s mutilated body; how he was slain like a sacrificial animal during a fierce bacchanalia. “What if you’re a cursed soul?”

“Cursed souls are always angry. The greatest challenge for a cursed soul is for them to let go of their anger and embrace the same forgiveness and understanding that plagues the rest of the damned.” He looks at you. “Terezi…what happened here…you’re not cursed. You were protecting your family.”

You smile. He may be a spoiled fish but he has a sweet side. “I wasn’t thinking about me but thanks for the concern.” You stroke the head of your dragon cane. “Can I hear your prayer to Time’s Clockworks in English?”

Eridan smiles and recites the prayer:

“ _’I am the lord of fire who lives on death,_

_‘Lord of oblivion, maker of paradoxes, dragon-father, pestilence-progenitor, chaos-eater, demon-slayer, time-weaver, soul-severer, extinction-invoker,_

_‘I am the god of the cracked world, the lord of Heat and Clockwork, who calms and invokes the storms across time,_

_‘Who drives off and slays the monstrosities, the many-named that come forth from the Mother of Abominations.’_ ”

It’s a beautiful prayer. You would like to hear it in Alternian but before you can request it, the door to Sollux’s bedroom opens. Sollux stumbles out, wearing only his pajamas. His eyes aren’t sparking with a psionic migraine but his eyes are giving an annoyed twitch.

“I heard someone indulging fish face in his fake as shit magical pagan bullshit so I had to come out and investigate.” Sollux says.

“Magic isn’t _fake_ , Sol,” Eridan says, rolling his eyes, “but I don’t expect a bone-deep _atheist_ to believe in having optimism in the grander scheme of the cosmos.”

“ _You_ don’t believe in magic either.” Sollux says.

“My definition of magic and your definition of magic are two different definitions.” Eridan insists.

“Your so called prayers sound more like a boast about how awesome Time’s Clockworks is.” Sollux says.

“ _All_ the prayers to gods sound like boasts. Immortals like a little ass kissing before you start asking for favors.” Eridan admits, “What are you doing up? I thought you were sleeping in late because of your migraine.”

“I’ve been up for an hour listening to the battery radio.” Sollux frowns. “I can’t believe we’re _national_ news. Shit is going to get really crazy.”

You sit on the couch, sighing. “I know. I just wish it was under better circumstances. How’s Dad doing by the way?”

“Still agitated.” Sollux sits next to you and Eridan walks into the kitchen. The eggs are sitting on the coffee table. Dmitry is wrapped in wet towels to keep him cold and Suxxor is wrapped in dry ones to keep him warm. “He won’t leave Mom’s side. Nor will he put down the baseball bat.”

“The…baseball bat?”

“Yeah. He likes to hold onto it. It lets him feel safe, so why not? Mom came directly home and passed out. She’s still knocked out.”

“Does Dad understand what happened?”

“He comprehends danger and keeping Mom safe. He may not have psionics or great reasoning skills but Tuna loves Mom a lot and…” He sighs. “He knows she’s very sick. Thursday, he said, ‘Sol, what will happen if I wake up and Tula is gone?’ He’s…thinking about a life without her.”

You frown. “I don’t want Mom to suffer like this, Sollux. I want her to be comfortable if…if she’s not going to make it. I want DynamiCHEM to pay for every boon of her medical treatment.”

Sollux slowly inhales and rubs the bridges of his nose.  

“Terezi…I know its hard but there’s no way you can do that. Not within a realistic frame of time. We don’t know how long Mom has and DynamiCHEM treats this city like a five-boon whore. They dump shit in our water and all the politicians look the other way because of the money they bring in.”

“DynamiCHEM is not the only game in town,” you remind your brother, “Apexcom, NEBio, and Alternicorp would love to see mud on the DynamiCHEM name. There has to be a document about what happened. DynamiCHEM would have no reason to destroy it because there’s no investigation yet. That means employees from that time period must still be around and aware of its existence.”

“Do we really want to kick a hornet’s nest?” Sollux frowns, “If DynamiCHEM loses business, they’ll lay people off. Unemployment will skyrocket. We’ll make a lot more people miserable and all Mom wants is peace and quiet.”

You stand. “If you don’t think I can’t do this, Sollux, just say so, but don’t treat me like I’m in denial. I know Mom might not _make_ it but I want her to know that others won’t suffer like she has. Don’t you think that’s important?”

Sollux stands. “Is this about Mom or revenge?”

“What if it was Eridan in that factory? Would you be arguing as hard against this if he was sick? Or Feferi?”

Sollux’s eyes spark. “How… _dare you._ Are you implying that I’m not working as hard to help Mom? Who’s the one that pays for the bills? Who’s the one that _stayed here_ and sees Mom _sick every damn day?_ ”

“I would’ve stayed if it meant Mom would get better!”

“Staying wouldn’t fix anything! Revenge won’t fix it either!”

_“Then what will?”_

_“I don’t fucking know Terezi! She won’t go to a doctor!”_

The bedroom door opens and Mituna walks out. His hair is a mess as usual, a dark hairy bush that’s impossible to comb or truly maintain.

He looks over at Sollux and you. “Could you keep it down? You’ll wake up Tula.”

You grind your teeth but nod, stiffly. “Sorry. We…forgot. Did we wake up Mom?”

“Sort of…” Mituna grumbles but retreats back inside the room.

When the door closes, Sollux sighs. “Not very much wakes Mom up these days, unless its by her ears.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Listen, Rezi. Before we do anything, we have to take Mom to a doctor and figure out exactly what’s wrong. They’ll throw Mom’s case out of court if there’s no record of her going to a doctor for treatment and confirming what’s wrong.”

You hate it when he’s right sometimes. “I can meet with Barrat Farren & Webber and get the ball rolling on this investigation or I can convince Mom to see a doctor but I can’t do both. Not alone. I’m not going to ask you to help me bring DynamiCHEM’s crimes to light if you don’t want any part of it, but we both know Mom needs a doctor.”

Psionics flicker along narrowing Sollux’s eyes. After a minute he grunts and looks away. “Fine. I’ll think of a way to convince Mom, but that’s all. I’m not doing any corp espionage or hacking into any databases.”

“That’s fine.” He can be hands off if he wants for now. You can always find someone else to locate the information you want. “Do you have any idea what you’re going to say to Mom to convince her to see a doctor?”

“I have some idea…” He rubs his temple, irritated. “I just never thought it would come to this. Is there anything else you want?” 

“Yes,” you say because your brother prefers your sharp honesty even when you’re being a thorn in his side, “a ride out to downtown so we can buy new locks for our backdoors.”

“Fine.” Sollux rolls his eyes. “Let me tell fish face. He can get Kanaya or someone to come over and help watch Dad and Mom with him.”

“Alright.”

You’ll just be glad to be out of the park with your brother. You need to survey the damage elsewhere in regards to the transformer being out and plot your next plan of action regarding DynamiCHEM.

 


	5. saturday's child full of wisdom

**== >Terezi: Be Karkat at the same moment  **

 

At nine you leave the park in Harley’s car(which was her grandfather’s inherited SUV). There’s a line at the barricade exit and it takes you ten minutes to leave. Then it takes ten minutes to find a parking spot at the public storage units since everyone and their brother is out trying to pull generators, batteries, and camping supplies out of storage. You pull out two generators from Strider’s storage unit; both coated with dust, and load them into the SUV. You drive out to Fairmont Shoppes but find that it’s still dark. The parking lots are crowded with security guards keeping away looters and employees cleaning up. A line of workers are arranged in front of Walmart, passing buckets of defrosting meat and vegetables toward a garbage can. The lights in Fairmont Liquors are flickering but there’s a cardboard sign outside boasting ‘WE R OPEN!!!:)’.

“Well, isn’t that lovely, Harley. The _liquor store_ is still open.” you observe.

Jade watches the homeless and displaced alike race their shopping carts toward the liquor store. “It’s comforting to know that in times of crisis, people in the Ninth Ward have their priorities straight.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, enough gawking at the local picture of happiness that is Fairmont Liquors. Let’s hit the road to snobsville.”

Interstate 36 leading downtown is still backed up, with cars honking and police patrolling the area. Jade uses her iHusk GPS to locate the Twelve Acres Walmart and fuel station. Twelve Acres is full of college graduates and aging hipsters that have retired to white picket fences and yoga classes at the local strip mall. The kind of people who don’t have to be forced to listen to NPR and donate to public broadcasting without the promise of T-shirts and tote bags a.k.a. Strider’s final evolution.

“I’m telling you, Harley. _This_ is your future.” you say. The SUV pulls into a quaint little strip mall called East Galesburg Shops. It’s like Fairmont but instead of a liquor store they have a winery (which has an expensive and ornate sign detailing times for tastings) and the homeless people are actually high-earning hippies heading into Whole Foods.

“Oh _really_ now?” Jade snickers.

“These are Dave’s people. One day he will wake up and tell you that he must go his hipster people need him. He’ll live out his days on overpriced organic vegetables, tofu, and build a home inside a thrift shop.”

Jade smirks. “The irony is that _I_ could live out here but Dave couldn’t.” She pauses. “Speaking of Dave, I never gave him his birthday present.”

You grab a shopping cart and head toward the Walmart, which is packed with people. You guess some hipsters prefer Walmart prices to Whole Foods. “Shit. I never gave it to him either. I passed out after he made us watch all those shitty movies. I think I fell asleep before I saw the end of _Shriek of the Mutilated._ ”

“I’m surprised I got through _Friday the 13 th The Revenge Part VII, _which is actually _Jeepers Creepers The Rebirth Part II._ ” Jade pauses. “If I remembered that I’m hanging around Dave too much…”

You enter the Walmart which is (as you expected) just as disorganized as the one back home. The employees look just as lifeless and bored under the lights. People walk by and occasionally stop and look at you both twice-over.

“I know we planned to surprise him Friday or Saturday night and now this situation has happened.” you say, “I hate Strider but I don’t want him to think I don’t care.”

“Aww, you really hate him don’t you?” Jade teases.

You scowl. “Shut up.”

“And Karkat, you’ve been reading _too many_ overdramatic romcoms. People don’t suddenly have breakdowns about not giving them a birthday party. There’s usually something else going on to provoke them into doing that. We both know Dave wouldn’t be happy to have a party in this environment. When the power comes back on, we can have a party about just getting through this.”

You laugh. “The biggest, most hipster party for our Strider.” An old carapace with a beehive wig squints in your direction and you snap your teeth at her. She goes pale and hurries along down another aisle.

You go to the auto section and pick up air canisters and fuel. The employees are also carapaces who keep scowling and squinting at you two. While Jade is ogling a shiny new set of tools, you try to find something to keep your interest but don’t find much because tools and auto maintenance is the most boring thing ever conceived by trolls and humans alike.

“—at that. What a sight.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when they would come here.”

“You think her kid is going to have limbs at all?”

You turn around and see two human women looking in your direction. They’re both unmutated and not bothering to cower. They’re proud of their comments because they’re human and you don’t think you’re going to say anything.

“That kid could have no limbs and still not be better liked than you two cows.” You growl.

“Was I talking to you, nug?” snarls one of the women. “Why don’t you go back to where you dirty Niners belong.”

You stare at the woman for a very long time and when you open your mouth, it comes out in a hiss, “ _The fuck did you just call me, you fat whore?”_

“Karkat.” Jade says.

“ _No_! I want to hear her say it again!” you snarl, showing your teeth. The women’s indifferent attitudes quickly crumble because they’re easing away from you. On no. They’re not getting out of it that easily. You move closer to him. “Say it! Say it to my fucking _face_!”

“D-don’t come any closer!” insists the woman, digging her purse, “I have _mace_!”

“She didn’t mean it!” the other quickly says.

“The fuck she didn’t!” you tell.

“Karkat, calm down! She’s just an asshole!” Jade insists, grabbing your arm.

A fretful carapace employee runs into the aisle. “ _Whoa_! What’s going on down here?”

The woman (clutching mace), looks at the employee. “This nug almost attacked me!”

“I am going to fucking put you in the ground, you bitch.” You growl. You move forward but Jade has a death grip on your arm. You glare at her. “Let go, Harley!”

“Hell no! I’m not explaining to Dave why you’re in prison.” Jade says.

The employee turns bright scarlet, glaring at the woman. “Ma’am. We here at Walmart do not condone that sort of _language_. Please leave the store.”

The woman’s face darkens in rage. “ _What_.”

“Immediately! Before I call security!” the employee snaps. The woman glares at you but waddles off. She sheepishly nods to you, muttering an apology and follows after her companion. The employee walks over to you, sighing. “I’m sorry for that, sir. We don’t allow those kinds of people in our store.”

“Too bad one of them showed up to shit all over my day.” You tug your arm away from Jade, who finally releases you. You look at her, “Let’s just leave.”

Jade nods and the employee checks you out at the auto section register. It’s a struggle to hold in your anger during that entire time but from some minor miracle, you manage to do it. You pay for the supplies, load up the SUV, and only when you leave the strip mall do you finally explode.  

“My gods! What fucking _people_!” you yell, “I haven’t been called a nug in _years_ and, of fucking course, it’s by some fat dog-faced disgusting nookstain of a woman in fucking Twelve Acres! This is why people hate this fucking district! Everyone here is either a simpering dickmongering pile of vomit-inducing shit or a brain dead shitlicking bulgefondler who thinks they can go around calling people nug without getting their fuckwhiffing faces smashed in!”

Jade is silent for five minutes before muttering, “Fuck-whiffing…?”

“You know what I mean!”

“No, I _don’t_ , Karkat.” Jade says. “I think only you know what those word combinations mean. Do _you_ even know what ‘fuckwhiffing’ is? Like, is it whiffing fucks or the fucks whiff you? Like…how does that _work_?”

“I don’t fucking _know,_ Harley.” You grunt, sliding down in your seat. “I can’t fucking _believe_ it. Who the fuck even decided ‘nug’ would be a slur? Its just a stupid word. _Ugh_.” You fold your arms. “I fucking hate people sometimes and all that shit they were saying about _you_. How do you even tolerate that?”

Jade shrugs. “I guess I’m used to it by now. I try not to let it ruin the rest of my day. I already know that my kid is going to have limbs. They’re going to be fine. They’ll just have…extra.”

“Extra? Extra what?”

“Well, not really ‘extra’ so much as ‘additions’…” Jade sighs and her grip on the steering wheel tightens, “You’ll meet her eventually and it’ll be easier to explain the situation when you see her.” 

You decide not to ask any further about the situation. It’s not your kid and maybe it’s not your place to know. You return to the park around noon but there’s no line at the barricade. A police car is patrolling your neighborhood. When you arrive at the Strider trailer, Dave is on the front porch with Terezi nailing boards over the windows.

You get out of the car and walk over. “We got the generator plus ethanol and air cans to blow it out. I thought you were replacing the windows?”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Dave grumbles, “until Terezi pointed out that installing windows would violate our license agreement.”

“The DD’s dogs are sniffing around the neighborhood just looking for an excuse to throw anyone out, so they’re making things difficult.” Terezi says, “They say we’re not ‘authorized’ to install anything on the trailer and that the DD has to okay it. That includes doors and windows.”

Jade walks over, scowling, “So what are we supposed to do? Just sit around with no windows or a door in our trailers? That’s a violation of our rights! We should report him to the city housing department!”

“He can’t let us stay like this.” you say.

“No, he can’t,” Dave agrees, “but until we compile all our receipts and fill out the incident reports, he’s not replacing anything. The insurance on all these trailers has to kick up some money. _Apparently_.”

“This is some _bullshit_.” Jade grumbles, “I’m going to fill out those incident reports in someone’s blood.”

“Do you know when Rutpol is supposed to come by and clean up all this fucking _garbage_?” you ask.

“Not until Monday.” Terezi says.

“Even with Swan supposedly jumping down their throat, the union’s not going to do a weekend job.” Dave says, rolling his eyes. “The only people that keep showing up and won’t leave are reporters trying to land an interview.”

“Go figure.” Jade nudges you. “Come on. We have to unload the generator.”

You help Harley unload the generator, blow all the dust and cobweb off and out of it, and fill it with ethanol. The entire process takes an hour but at the end of it, the engine sputters to life.

“Alright, we have power!” you laugh.

“It’s a small amount but enough for hot water, some lights, and the freezer.” Jade says, smiling.

“How long do you think until the transformer is replaced?” you ask.

“A large area like this won’t be dark for long.” Jade rubs her chin. “With the national coverage going on, they’re not going to keep this place looking too shabby for long. This is different from when the power went out during Calliope. For one thing, there are no downed trees in the way.”

You go inside and test the lights and water. The lights are dim, the water takes longer than usual to heat up, but you can at least plug in a fan to help combat the heat. You get bottled water from the freezer and enter the living room. With the windows blocked off, the temperature in the trailer is getting closer to normal. John is still passed out on the pull-out bed, cuddling his blanket.

You nudge him. “Egbert? Egbert, I’m going to be pissed if you die on our couch.”

Dave enters the trailer, sipping from a water bottle. “We had Horuss come by and check on him. G.I. Troll said he’s been exhausted and anemic for a while now. Staying here is probably the best sleep he’s had in weeks.”

You run your fingers through Egbert’s hair. If you were in his situation, you wouldn’t be sleeping easily either. Egbert murmurs in his sleep and rolls onto his back. His right arm and side of his neck are dotted with a bumpy rash. You frown. “Are you sure he’s alright? He has a rash.”

“He noticed it and John’s not the only one.” Dave sighs, “I got a rash on my back. No telling if it’s from the chemicals in the mud or something else. So far it’s not bothering me but he told me not to touch Jade”

“Kankri has one too.” Terezi says, walking into the doorway.

“Maybe that’s why Vriska is still in her trailer. She’s not pissed at me. She just has a rash.” You could see Vriska hiding out because of an unsightly rash. You chuckle at the image but Dave and Terezi just awkwardly cough and avoid eye contact. You frown. “What’s going on?”

“Well…” Dave begins.

“Not that we want to alarm you…” Terezi mutters.

“That is to say…” Dave adds.

“What’s going on?” you repeat, annoyed with their hemming and hawing.

Dave scratches the back of his neck. “Kanaya heard from Vriska who told Terezi who told me that Vriska’s packing up. She’s not staying here during the blackout or the news investigators that are starting to move in our place. She’s heading to a hotel out in Iguana Orchard.”

“ _What_?” you yell, “Why’s she going there? She doesn’t know anybody in that snob town!”

“She knew Nektan.” Dave points out.

“ _Fuck_ Nektan!” you yell. “Vriska can’t go to Iguana Orchards.”

Terezi sighs. “And why not, Karkat? She’s perfectly capable of making her own decisions.”

“It’s a terrible idea!” you insist, “Vriska has no safety network outside of the Ninth Ward. If something happens, she’ll be fucked over _again_ and our kid included.” You chug down your water and rush to the bathroom.

“What’s he doing now?” Jade mutters.

“I dunno but I bet it’s something presumptuous and stupid.” Dave says.  

“I’m changing my clothes!” you yell from the bathroom.

You can’t deal with Vriska smelling like dust and ethanol. You throw your clothes in the hall, take a quick shower, run across the hall, and change into the clean clothes you have left. You rush out the bedroom and toward the backdoor, but then snag your foot on something. You tumble down and would have a broken nose if you didn’t put out your hands in front of you.

Terezi stands over you. “Karkat, take a deep breath and think about what you’re doing.”

“I am thinking about it!” you insist, “Did you fucking _trip me,_ Terezi? Not cool!”

“Just for the record, _I_ offered to do it but she wouldn’t let me touch her cane.” Dave adds in, still scratching.

“Shut up, you rashy egg!” You sit up glaring at Terezi. “Explain to me why you tripped me.”

“Karkat, whenever Vriska comes into the picture, you go _nuts_.” Terezi says, “You run into situations without thinking, make rash decisions based on whatever you’re feeling, and you cause more problems than you solve. Remember what happened _the other times_ you made decisions involving her? You need to take a deep breath and calm down.”

You scramble off the ground. “ _I am perfectly relaxed!_ Look at me! I’m Mr. Relax-a-Lot, king of the Land of Chilling Out and Weed because that’s way I am!”  

“He screamed at the top of his _lungs_.” Dave mutters.

“And yet John’s _still_ asleep. Poor baby.” Jade sighs.

“Karkat, do you even know what you’re going to _say_?” Terezi asks, “This is _Vriska_ we’re talking about. She likes her freedom. She likes being a spider spinning her web in the wind, or whatever analogy would be appropriate here. The point is, she’s most likely tired of your constant… _meddling_.”

“I don’t _constantly_ meddle!” you insist.

“Karkat, you meddle and nag her and I know you do it out of concern because Vriska is… _herself_ …but you need to give her breathing room.” Terezi inhales and rubs her forehead with her fingers, because a headache must be coming on.  “I swear, if there was a quadrant for meddling, you’d be in it so deep.”

Jade looks up from where she’s feeling John’s forehead. “Isn’t auspitism the meddling quadrant?”

“I dunno. Kanaya would be the ones to consult on that.” Dave mutters.

“That’s a good idea…” Terezi says.

“Have fun with that. I’m going to go talk to my matesprit.” You declare and leave the trailer before anyone can stop you.  

Getting to the Maryam mobilehive is a lot more challenging with all the mud and garbage. There’s a mound of garbage piled at the end of where Shaker Hill joins Meyer with wild lusii rooting through it. The smell is made worse by the barbeque meals left to rot out in the overcast cast. You walk across the Megido lawn to avoid getting too close to it. The Maryam mobilehive is a humdrum of activity. Kanaya is hanging up wet clothes on a laundry line by the side of the house. Approaching the trailer, you hear the loud _rang-rang-rang_ of a hand-crank laundry machine at work with Rufioh telling him to be careful. The front door is open and the screen door shut, letting the cool air in. Like Strider’s, this trailer is humid and stifling without electricity. Whoever constructed these trailers must have foregone air circulation in a gesture of cheapness.

You push it aside. “Vriska?”

There’s no answer. A clatter comes from the bathroom but nothing else. Snippy skitters across the floor with arachnid speed, carrying Arthat bundled in a blanket. He moves to Vriska’s large designer bag, placing the bright cerulean egg in first before climbing in. You take a step close to him but Snippy gives a warning hiss and you back away. You must be deemed a non-threat until you get too close. You have no plans to get stung today and test out the potency of that venom.

The bathroom door opens, flooding cold mist into the hall. Vriska steps out, grumbling as she attempts to affix the second gold hoop earring in her left ear. She’s wearing black shorts, a peasant top blouse showing off her freckled shoulder, a cerulean-on-black corset with a golden necklace, golden wrist bangles, and red heels.

She finally gets the earring in and then looks at you, frowning. “Karkat? What are you doing here?”

Gods, she looks gorgeous. You have to mentally slap yourself as a reminder for your visit. “What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?”

“Obviously washing the smell of this place off?” Vriska says in a matter-of-fact voice. “I can’t go somewhere nice if I stink like garbage, plastic, and gods knows what else.” You stare at her and she laughs, voice bouncing off the thin walls. “What? It may be dark and ugly mudsville in the Ninth Ward but in Iguana Orchards, it’s Boonpenny Shot Night at Fraymotif.”

“‘Fraymotif’? What kind of wonky hipster name is that?”

“It’s a club. _Obviously_.” Vriska walks to her bag and pulls out a make-up kit from a side-pocket. She stands and uses the compact mirror so she can apply cerulean eyeliner. “It’s owned by some rich hipster humans and caters to the college kids. The guy who owns it runs some great games.” She starts to add lipstick.

You doubt a club in a little artist neighborhood like Iguana Orchards would have a casino license, since New Jack officials want to keep all gambling confined to the Strip. “How exactly are you going to get there? There’s no way you can walk these roads in those shoes.”

“ _Karkaaaaat_.” Vriska sighs and shakes her head. “Do you seriously think I’m the kind of troll who doesn’t plan ahead? I’m getting a ride from Hecuba.”

“Hecuba.”

“Yup.”

“Who the fuck is ‘ _Hecuba’_?” You growl. “Oh, wait let me guess: he’s a ‘good friend’ just like Nektan was.”

Vriska frowns. “Where’s _this_ coming from?”

“The fuck do you _think_ it’s coming from?” you snap, “You _just_ got fucked over by Nektan’s bullshit. Bullshit that almost got you and our kid killed! Now instead of reflecting on your mistake, you’re going _clubbing?_ ”

Vriska stares at you, unimpressed and unaffected by your yelling.

“Okay. One? Hecuba is a woman.” Vriska smiles. “A fine-as-aged-wine and classy woman who lives in a sweet ass condo in Variance Beach. A condo which I am going to be living in so Arthat can go to the best schools in this shitty city. _Two_ : I wasn’t planning on staying in the Squalor anyways. I was just biding my time until Nektan fucked up royal and I could make serious bank off of him. _Three:_ there is _no_ _way_ I am staying here. It’s awful and gross here. I deserve better. _Four:_ you are not my fucking mother, Karkat. If she can’t tell me what to do, _neither can you_.”

“How are you making money off of Nektan? He’s _gone_.”

“Of course he’s gone.” Vriska snorts, “That sea-chicken’s flown the coop, but I’m still going to make my money. You know I’ve always got irons in the fire and the more brilliant, the brighter they shine.”

“ _Brilliant_ , huh? So incredibly ‘brilliant’ that you’re not going to tell anyone what it is until it blows up in your face and people get hurt! Then you’re just going to do it again and again until you lose an arm, an eye, and your life to _your bullshit_!”  

“My kid, Karkat! _Mine!”_ Vriska snaps. She quivers with rage, her face darkening with cerulean. “You…you’re a _terrible matesprit_!”

It’s a verbal slap across the face. “Excuse me?”

“You hear me!” Vriska insists, “You’re an awful matesprit, Karkat! You’re meddling, nagging, and you _never_ support me! If you really flushed me, you wouldn’t hesitate about any of this! You’d be in this _with_ me!”

“In _what_ exactly?” You’re still angry but you’re holding it back. Your emotions are frothing at the barrier but unless you want this to end in a screaming match, you _have_ to hold it back.

“Do I have to spell it out, Vantas?”

Your answer is silence and a stare and Vriska laughs. It’s not in good humor but a low, mean cackle.

“I can’t believe this.” she sniggers, “The romcom expert doesn’t know a _damn_ _thing_ about quadrants.”

Her laughter dies out quickly and she looks at you, impassive as stone.

“Oh, he can talk a good game and smooth things over with nice words but when it comes to actually _keeping_ them it’s a different story…” she mutters.

Vriska goes quiet and for a few minutes, the only noise is the outside _rang-rang-rang_ of the hand-crank laundry machine and background conversation. She doesn’t speak until her mismatched eyes are focused on you again.

“If you really flushed me, you wouldn’t just stop by when it’s convenient for you.” she says, voice taut, “You’d be in there _with me_. You’d be in the clubs _with me_. We should be in Fraymotif drinking Adagio Redshifts and cheating asshole trust-fund babies out of their money _together_! Explain to me how you can be my matesprit and not want to do _any_ of that.”

“Because I don’t like cheating people out of their money, trust-fund babies or otherwise. That’s _your_ thing. I don’t like loud clubs with obnoxious music and annoying drinks. That’s Strider’s scene and I hate him.”

Vriska inhales sharply. “Well then,” she hisses, “it sounds like you hate me too.”

“Shit. Vriska.” You rub the bridge of your nose to try and control your breathing, holding back your irritation still. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, it is. Face it, Karkat.” Vriska puts away the make-up kit and picks up the bag. “Your quads are always going to be a mess because _you’re_ a mess. You never know what you want until someone tells you. Well, _I’m_ telling you: you’re a lousy matesprit. You can still visit and watch Arthat, but for now?”

The anger’s fizzled out. Now she just wears a sad smile. “Give me my space and let me find an _actual_ matesprit. I hope you can find the same.”

There’s a honk and Vriska grins, leaving the trailer. You walk to the doorway and see a blue-green two-seater convertible waiting outside. At the wheel is a middle-aged tealblood with creases of age around her mouth and a short shock of blonde hair. Vriska hops inside and the convertible speeds down the road, splattering the trailer (and you) with mud.

“Oh for _fuck’s_ _sake_!” Kanaya yells.

You step off the porch to see Kanaya standing with mud on her dress and the fresh laundry in the same speckled condition.

“I told you we should have done this in the back.” Tavros sighs, not looking up from his cranking.

“The back’s already full of other clothes!” Kanaya growls, wiping at her dress with a still-damp and mud splashed towel.

Rufioh rounds the corner of the trailer. “What was that noise?” Then he sees you and adds, “Karkat? I guess I should have known it was you yelling...”

You nod, numbly, and don’t even bother looking at the mud that sprayed you.

Kanaya starts taking down the laundry but looks at you, frowning. “Karkat…you don’t look well. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

You turn away and start to head for home. You’re sure if Rufioh overheard the shouting, then everyone else must have. You head in the direction of the Strider trailer, taking the long route by walking down Shaker Hill Road. Slopping through the mud, you consider the truth of Vriska’s words. You’ve learned to tolerate the sights and smells of the Ninth Ward. What’s toxic and awful is still familiar to you and although detrimental, you prefer familiarity’s comforts to the unknown’s disquiet.

So Vriska isn’t doing this to hurt you. For once, she’s not lying. It’s truth that you like your home, drawbacks and all, and she does deserve better. Who wants to stay where they’re miserable? You may want to reconsider relocating in the future but this now, this is your friends and family is. To leave now is unthinkable.

To change who you are—even for her—is impossible.

The Strider trailer is quiet. You go to the backdoor not because the front is damaged (as with Kankri and Kurloz’s trailers), but because you came here for quiet, not socializing. You sit on the back porch and look at the overcast sky. You’re not angry or sad, not truly. You just feel confused, a quiet calm before an angry storm of emotions. Maybe you already saw this coming. Terezi did warn you about nagging and when you call Vriska your matesprit, people always scoffed. Had the writing always been on the wall? Maybe and you were blind to it.

You don’t feel pity or self-loathing. A pity party wouldn’t be appropriate for how you feel. Crying isn’t even appropriate. She’ll still be in your life and that’s fine by you; you like being with her, even if it’s not in a relationship. Vriska can be fun and bold, but you need it in small doses. You would grow to hate her if you lived with her.

Still, you question her safety. Older trolls who mix with younger ones typically bring trouble. Vriska could make “bank” off of Nektan because anyone with a book of cons and intelligence could manipulate the young a stupid. An older troll is different; they’ve picked up a few tricks of the trade the young will never know. They keep their cards close to their chest until they feel it necessary to move.

You know it’s not safe for her, but you can’t meddle. Not anymore.

You sit on the porch and listen to the conversation inside the trailer. You hear John so he must be awake now. You wish you could have the distraction of an iHusk or the internet but without electricity you have nothing but your darkening thoughts. It’s an hour before Dave comes out.

“Yikes, Vantas,” Dave says, “You look like your heart got run over.”

“You could say that.” you say.

Dave sits next to you. “Things didn’t go so well?”

“I think you already know that.”

“Well, my hipsterdom _does_ give me the power of sight beyond sight.” Dave says, smugly, “So she broke up with you. So what? You’re not Quasimodo, Karkat. Head on over to Nitram’s and see if you can get Peter GILF to sprinkle some magic pixie dust on your tiger lily.”

You grimace at the analogy. “I’m not interested in rebounding, or Petros. I’m not even _that_ upset about Vriska. I think…not being upset is proof that it wasn’t the real thing. When your flush breaks up, the world should crumble and fall apart. Instead, I’m just kind of ‘meh’, like I was about you cheating.”

“I would argue that you cheated first because you banged not one but two chicks.”

“If we get back into mating cycle versus relationship semantics, I might have to hit you just to shorten that argument and I’m _way_ bigger than I was when we first hooked up.”

“Point taken. Not going there.”

You look back at the smoggy horizon over the neighborhood. “Strider, am I an idiot for staying here? This neighborhood is miserable. Maybe Vriska’s got the right idea. Maybe I should pack up, sell everything, live in Iguana Orchard…” You consider it and grimace. “Just the _thought_ of that is gross.”

“Karkat, let’s face it: we’re Niner trash. This is our home and we’re not going to leave it unless it burns to the ground. I don’t want to live in Iguana Orchard. It’s fun being a hipster here because everyone is either redneck trash or a thug. If I went to Iguana Orchard, it’d be the exact opposite.”

You smirk. “So what you’re telling me is that you don’t like Iguana Orchard because being a hipster would be too _mainstream_. What’ll happen when you go to college and it’s full of nothing _but_ hipsters?”

“I dunno if I’ll go to college. It’s all up in the air still with the baby on the way.” He stands. “C’mon, king crab. Let’s scuttle back inside before the mosquitoes eat you alive.”

“And here I thought you’d make more Pupa Pan jokes.”

Dave smirks. “I reserve those for the special times.”

You roll your eyes and walk back inside the trailer because (for as long as it may last) this is your home.


End file.
